


Champagne

by phlight



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Bananas, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Online Dating, Sexting, topri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-06 07:52:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15881754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phlight/pseuds/phlight
Summary: Seungri and Seunghyun navigate the wild and wonderful world of digital romance.





	Champagne

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emilyseyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyseyo/gifts).



> Standard disclaimer: No one in this fic would do any of this. 
> 
> “I’m not dumb!” - Seungri
> 
> No. But I am. 
> 
> Sorry not sorry for 99% of this being a chat fic. Also there’s POV switching, but it’s not consistent one guy-the other guy-one guy-the other guy. Did you think you were coming for literature? Oh honey, no.
> 
> Massive credit for this one has to go to corpuscallos_m and emilyseyo, two of my favourite Seungri-centric authors who contributed much to the development of key plot points in this story (aka me spitballing at them — “Wouldn’t it be funny if this happened? But how would it happen?”) Not sure if either of them are the creator of this prompt, but I hope everyone likes it.
> 
>  **Prompt:** Seungri tries to text a nude or two to a current lady he's seeing, but he opens the wrong text message chain and accidentally sends them to a fellow big bang member. (your choice)  
>  **Pairing:** Seungri x any Bigbang member  
>  **Rating:** Teen+, Mature, Explicit  
>  **Wants:** starts as comedy but slowly grows into the big bang member becoming sexually interested in seungri.  
>  **Don't wants:** pretty much anything goes

Seungri can’t stop thinking about her. The lustrous fall of her hair over one shoulder. _Brunette_ , he reminds himself. Her wide, dark eyes, like windows at night, reflecting all his unanswered questions. The slope of her nose, high and perfect. He rubs the slight bump on his own. Her lush lips, the way she’d smiled at him, like she owned him already. He licks his, sighs, then shoves the glass rim of his bottle up against his teeth and tips his head back. That’s not how you’re supposed to drink a beer, but he’s alone in his apartment (as usual), so fuck the niceties. He wants liquid courage inside of him as fast as possible. He intends to rectify this solo situation.

He pauses when he lowers the empty bottle, doubt making him frown as he belches.

Does he even have a chance? He was _himself_ , buoyant and confident and charming, but she hadn’t seemed very affected. Everything about her was moderately intimidating and he was so sucked in. Even the way she’d said, “I can’t speak Korean” when he’d introduced himself — she wasn’t apologetic in the least, and the rest of her replies to his enthusiastic enquiries were just as blunt. He couldn’t place her accent at first, not until he asked her name in his Most Proper English and she replied, like cool silk whisping over bare skin:

 _Yvette_.

His thumb hovers over her name in his contacts list.

Yvette. Who he’d first seen at his club, catching his eye from the dance floor, but somehow eluding him once he was offstage. Who popped up again at a friend of a friend’s birthday party at a trendy restaurant, and after they managed to exchange a Meaningful Stare from across the room, he saw her whispering behind her hand to a model acquaintance, and then she’d disappeared again.

Yvette. Who showed up at today’s Bigbang photoshoot with his acquaintance, after Seungri personally introduced their agent to YG’s talent acquisition team. She turned out to be very comfortable behind a camera, _and_ they looked super hot together in their couple shots, at least in his opinion (no matter how much the hyungs snickered or made smarmy comments from the sidelines). When he said so, she just shrugged and said she didn’t intend to model for long. In fact, she was really in Seoul to be a teacher — and he’d heard that line a thousand times, except that she was here to teach _French_. At that point he couldn’t help but feel a different sort of desire for her. Okay, maybe he’s gotten a little obsessed with acquiring languages, but how could that be a bad thing, really? And there was no better way to learn a new tongue than to practice with a native speaker.

His tongue has never let him down. And just think of all the new words he’ll pick up when he makes her say them. Maybe he can teach her a little Korean too, stuff she’d never be able to find in a dictionary.

Despite her nonchalance, she’d texted her number to him as soon as he asked, and replied to every message he’d sent her after the shoot. It wasn’t that many, maybe five?

Not like he was desperate.

He taps on her name to check. Okay, it was ten messages. Some banter back and forth about a mutual interest in languages, how he won because he knew one more more than her, how he’d love to learn another one...and the most recent message agreeing to his hope that they could see each other again very soon. Somewhere with less cameras, perhaps?

Maybe she was kinky, though. Maybe she’d be up for filming some self-shot scenes together. He didn’t have much experience with European women, but if she didn’t shave her armpits*, she might be into some crazy shit. (*Unconfirmed cultural curiosity, but Daesung brought it up and Seungri guaranteed he would report back, and now he has to deliver because Daesung can’t be allowed to make that face at him and just get away with it.)

But if Seungri was serious about the “very soon” part, she’d asked him to get back to her by 8:00pm, because she has to let her friends know her plans for the night.

It’s 7:57.

“Fuck,” he mutters in English, closing the messaging app and tossing the phone aside. Ten texts, and on top of that he’s gone and pitched his tenth pants tent of the day.

He knows why he’s like this. He’s been working way too much. Big shocker there. Usually by this point in the week and this many drinks in, he’s only fantasising about his bed. He’s just that into her. He wishes he had a picture. Should’ve taken one  of the two of them on the preview screen at the photoshoot. He could’ve said he would post it as a teaser for the fans.

He recalls how it felt to be near her, how her body heat radiated through her thin dress against the side of his hip and thigh. He can vividly imagine the place where she’d feel the hottest. He presses down on the bulge through his pants and it’s so hard, even harder to stop touching—

Okay, fuck this. Decision time. Masturbate and miss this opportunity, or man up?

He needs one more drink. Then he’ll reply to her.

On the way back from the kitchen, nearly empty fourth? beer in hand, Seungri tries to conjure up his very best English lines. But they’re all just...not good enough. She might respond to a funny one, but he’s not sure. He wishes he knew French already. Does he know anyone who speaks French? He takes a long, last swig of his drink as he fishes his phone out from a crack between the couch cushions.

Instead of a helpful suggestion, like one of his Vietnamese friends, his mind recalls Seunghyun’s deep, reverent voice whispering “champagne” into a glass. It makes him laugh a little, but that definitely doesn’t count. Also Seunghyun can only wish he was as linguistically gifted as Seungri. Also he doesn’t even care or _try_ , because he doesn’t really need to. Stupid sexy T.O.P.

He opens up the messaging app again, scrolls down to Y. God, the way she’d said her name…  He taps it before he can think about rejection or the consequences of his actions too much and taps on the camera icon even faster. To be perfectly objective, he likes what he sees on the screen. He doesn’t have to be _so_ intimidated by her. He lifts his jaw, narrows his eyes. Yeah. He looks awesome. It could very well be thanks to the loneliness of self-discipline, but maybe he could cash out some of those hours banked at the gym to make himself just a little less lonely?

He tilts his chin back down and smiles with his mouth closed, trying to put an impish, inviting glint into his eyes. Hmm. Cute, but is that really what he wants to go for? The sun is setting and he’s got definite Mood Lighting he should utilise. Seungri’s done this enough by now to understand the value of selfie storybuilding. You can’t lead with a dick pic.

He scoots until his back meets the upholstery of the couch, then tips his head to show off his neck and jaw again. He examines himself in the screen and tugs at the hem of his t-shirt. The neckline is low and scoopy, an elegantly destroyed piece he’d swiped from Jiyong’s wardrobe after the shoot today. He looks better in it, so there.

He analyses the shot before he sends it. Only half of his face is only visible in tilted profile, but the hint of his pecs makes up for it. And his skin is looking all smooth and rosy-gold. And she could kinda see his bicep, if she paid attention. Nice.

He types in a quick caption — [hi, wow! so much work today] — and hits the arrow. White lie, but better to be busy than nervous. Yvette didn’t seem like the type to be kept waiting, but if she liked what she saw maybe she’d—

Her reply isn’t quite instant, but when it comes it’s so unexpected that he laughs again. It’s a single emoji, two eyes looking over to the side. Seungri knows what those eyes mean. Exhilarated, he throws caution to the wind. She is gonna get every fucking line he’s got.

But first. He angles the camera up higher this time, so she can see down the front of his shirt a little more, or follow the line of his body down to his lap, to what isn’t quite hidden between his spread thighs. He checks again. Impressive, yet subtle.

But not _too_ subtle.

[i liked work this morning with u], he sends. Winky kiss face? Nah. Don’t distract her. Make her think about it. Remember being with him.

He decides to take a full face shot after all, putting on a haughty expression that he knows has just the right amount of humour in it, too. Hmm, add a lip bite. He sends it.

Her reply is faster this time. Two sets of the eyes. He snorts. She’s sending enough emojis for the both of them, anyway.

[really had fun] Seungri is fighting off a grin now. Then, to kill the downer seed of doubt that threatens to germinate in his beer-soaked brains, he ups the ante. [want to see more of me 2nite?]

This time there’s a long pause and he’s past best by, well into expired, he’s fucking _curdled_ by the time she finally, finally replies:

[yes]

Okay that’s more like her. Fuck! The stress! He’s sweating already. But still, he’s gonna take that one word reply at face value. Or dick value. He adjusts his angle in his pants as he tries to decide on a pose for his next selfie. He doesn’t want to give away too much too soon.

He sets the phone down and tears his t-shirt over his head, lying down flat before he snaps the next shot. This one shows his shoulders, his chest, the beginnings of his abs. Okay, his abdominal area. He’s given up on ever being a sculpted god like Daesung or Youngbae hyung. The constant carb deprivation isn’t worth it. Still, he’s looking—

[sexy] she says. Punctuated with three fire emojis.

Seungri giggles, but he has to agree. He’s feeling almost too hot, like he might bust the button off his waistband, so he unfastens it before takes another picture. He tilts the phone down this time, his palm resting not quite innocently on his lower belly, slightly spread fingers proposing further exploration into denim-cast shadows.

[keep going?] he asks before he sends. Because it’s important to be polite.

[yes]

Her replies are faster now. She must be as into this as he is. He sends her the picture he just took, and one immediately after of his fingers grasping his zipper. By the time he sends the last shot — Unzipped Self Portrait of the Artist’s Crotch —  he’s breathing hard, and the light is fading, and he is NOT going to be alone tonight, dammit!

She sends the 100 emoji, then a rooster and about six exclamation points. Okay, so she’s goofy with her texting. It’s quite a contrast to how sophisticated she was in person, but he thinks he can work with it. He really likes it when a woman has a silly side.

When she sends the champagne bottle a second later he almost drops the phone on his dick. She’s either still being funny or...he googles quickly to confirm. Whoa. Is she literally getting off on this? Like maybe right now?

Consider the moment seized, he thinks.

[want to come over to my place]

It’s easier than going out. No third parties need be involved, beyond notifying building security about a visitor. Besides, his place is nice. Probably more comfortable than wherever she’s staying.

[really]

He can’t tell if it’s a question or a challenge. Stay optimistic, Lee, he steels himself. Woo the fuck out of her.

[yes! I can cook dinner 4 u and play u my new songs]

Oh man. She’s gonna love it. He has the best new speaker setup. Fully immersive 7.2.4 Dolby Atmos system (11.x is overkill for his room setup, in his opinion), and he’d paid a small fortune for all the wiring to go behind the walls and into the ceiling but it was so, so fucking sweet AND way better than Jiyong’s.

Uhhhh.

This is the longest pause yet. By the time she replies Seungri is a dusty skeleton in his grave and his boner almost dies, too.

[ok. I can bring wine. Not drinking your ]

And she sends the poo emoji. The actual poo emoji. Wow.

He’s a little insulted now because that’s kind of a big assumption to make. Who does she think she is? He has a few gift bottles languishing in his rack and he doesn’t even want to know how much they’re worth before he swallows them, but “ok.” OKAY!

He sits up straight, grinning at the screen as happy thumbs tap out his reply.

[haha! Wow it’s true about French ppl]

Risky, but also a compliment?

[??]

Uh-oh. He’s scraping around the bottom of his English barrel to think of a way to explain what he means, and he’s seconds away from texting an English-speaking friend to get him out of this when she replies in perfect Korean:

[If you want something French, I’ll bring this one.]

Seungri furrows his brow at the picture of the wine bottle, a curious tingly sensation settling over him the longer he looks. Shit. He’s either drunker than he realises or...

[But only if you send me another picture first.]

Not drunk enough. There are details here crying out for notice, important ones he can’t deny. Such as the painting in the background. Those placemats on the table. And the floor. He knows that fucking floor. And the reflection in the bottle’s surface. The back of the hand, holding the phone — and the messy-perfect hair, and THAT HUGE FUCKING EAR.

When he puts it all together, the hit is so effective that it nails him three times in three seconds: he falls off the couch, bites his tongue when his ass hits the ground, and then the phone hits him in the face, because of course.

He lies there, pants undone, panting, mouth smarting.

This is what he gets. This is what he fucking gets.

This is his life now.

An indeterminate, existentially entropic amount of time later, he picks up the phone, nervously poking at his lip with the tip of his tongue — tastes like blood, he’s _bleeding_ — and oh god, there’s the almost dick pic. Okay, maybe just call it a dick pic because he can see alarmingly HD details through the cotton bulging up past gold zipper teeth, and he’d normally be celebrating both picture and penile quality because that was he entire point of the exercise, BUT HE FUCKING SENT IT TO—

[FUCK] he types in English. He almost sends it before he realises YG T.O.P HYUNG will interpret that word in whichever way best suits his duplicitous, voyeuristic, emoji-dependent interests.

He erases the expletive and switches to Korean.

[hyung why]

[Because it was just getting good]

[...]

[if you’re going to act like you’re shy now I’ll just come over and take the pics myself]

Seungri is at an utter loss. Is Seunghyun joking?

He attempts to communicate on his level by sending a string of sobbing faces. Does he tell the truth, and hope Seunghyun can keep a secret? Cherish it to gleefully hold over Seungri like an iPhone wielded in the hands of a drunken, foolish, damnably horny—

Another text notification pops up before Seunghyun replies, and Seungri gasps. While he’s been drowning in the uncharted depths of his new sexual low, he’s completely forgotten about

Yvette: [Too late for soon now.]

He’s not sure what the fuck that means, but he’s been stripping for YG T.O.P HYUNG for approximately fifteen minutes and he’s missed Yvette’s deadline. He didn’t realise the French were such a punctual people. Wasn’t that supposed to be the Germans? Or the Swiss? He has several Swiss watches and they keep excellent time. Shit, now he’s all confused. He’s gotta stop reading _Business Insider_ articles at six am after two flights and no sleep if he expects to retain anyth—

[See you soon]

“FUCK,” Seungri exclaims. “Ow.” He gropes for a tissue on the coffee table and daubs at his busted lip, hissing at the sting. He tosses it aside to reply.

[hyung WHY]

[Why are you repeating yourself? Are you okay?]

God. Why is he like this. Only Seunghyun is like this. He just gets in these...moods...and he gets so...

Seungri gets a little lost in thoughts he’s normally very good at scheduling for thinking about the day after never. He physically shakes himself, sitting up to reply.

He tries to be kind.

[I’m fine, hyung]

For some reason, he feels the need to cup his dick while he waits for a reply.

[Damn right, now send me another pic]

Seungri squeezes himself too hard, yells, and throws the phone.

Then he remembers Yvette and crawls feebly after it. What in the hell should he say to her?! “Sorry for the misunderstanding, I was sending dick pics to someone else this whole time, but I thought he was you, I swear!” He believes in sticking close to the truth when he has to lie, but there’s definitely such a thing as too much honesty.

[Really sorry] he sends, after a few more frantic seconds of indecision. [i can’t reply before now because]

Why? What! Fucking think! Seungri can’t get the pictures of his dick out of his head. Jesus. Seunghyun saw _everything_ — like everything you could reasonably see without Seungri being actually naked.

Not like Seunghyun hasn’t seen what he’s got before. But he hasn’t been deliberately shown. _Offered_.

[my brother]

Brother.

He erases it.

[coworker needs a ride]

After that, the lie starts spinning its own web and the words flow easier. He finishes up by explaining that he just got back home from the drop off, but he’d love to see her if she doesn’t have plans.

He doesn’t know why he’s still determined to go through with this while undeniable evidence of impaired judgment exists in his camera roll, but he knows if he sits alone in his apartment tonight, with only his shame and visions of dick selfies erecting themselves in his mind—no. No. He doesn’t deserve to suffer like that.

He deserves to learn French.

He touches his lip. He thinks about Seunghyun. The weird part is he feels kind of bad.

“Why,” he mutters, resolving not to think about Seunghyun anymore.

He gets to his knees, and then his feet. Zips up his jeans and pulls his shirt back over his head. Stares at the phone lying there on the floor, all innocent and whatnot. Snatches it up and then closes his eyes for a minute, building up his nerve to look at his messages.

The weirder part is he feels kind of...tingly. Like before. When he was starting to realise what’d he done. Exhibitionist tendencies? Yes. Of course he has them. Why else would he have wanted to take those pictures in the first place?

In fact, he thinks, relishing the logical shift of gears in his mind, it was merely a prelude to something he does before almost every first-and-possibly-physical date.  You have to get off _before_ , so you don’t say or do something stupid _during_. Take dick pics, send dick pics, touch dick, wash hands. Then you can apply the right amount of rational charm in the right romantic setting and enjoy a mutually satisfying encounter later, probably. If he was really lucky she’d actually like him. Stay over, maybe cuddle, and maybe wake up and want to touch his dick again?

The sequence of events was sensible, if often interrupted somewhere along the way.

Like when you send your dick pics to SEUNGHYUN. Because you’re DRUNK.

FUCK. Seungri’s eyes pop open.

Yvette: [okay? I guess if you are not too far]

Too this and too that, aish. She seems picky already. But she has a right to be annoyed. He can save this. He has to save this, if only to assuage Daesung’s armpit interests. He offers to send a car, promising luxury, security, and speed all in one. Show her what it could be like to be with him, if she’s willing to put up with a little tardiness.

She accepts and he arranges her ride. He feels smug for a second until his gaze lands on the fridge, and then he’s sliding across the kitchen floor in his socks, opening the door to gape at the sparkling emptiness of the appliance. He panics for a second over his offer to cook dinner, until he remembers Seunghyun was the one who got that message.

Oh thank god.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Fucking fuck _fuck_.”

Fuck Seunghyun! He still needs to procure food! And drinks? What about the dirty underwear on his bedroom floor?!

He slams the fridge door closed and gets on his phone again, because he can definitely still save this. He runs to his room, picks up all the stray laundry, and chucks it in his closet while placing a dinner order with a great place down the street. Then he gets out a bottle of wine, uncorks it and pours two glasses because Seunghyun is full of poo emoji and he personally gave this one to Seungri and told him it needs to breathe, but after that it’s amazing—

And Seunghyun wants him.

Seungri makes a face at the bottle.

No, Seunghyun’s just...he just gets like...

He’s a fucking idiot.

Seungri puts the wine bottle down.

No. And yes.

Seunghyun _likes_ him, _and_ he’s an idiot because why would he insist on doing that? Seungri’s known the fact for years, but could never bring himself to ponder the answer to the question. Because it’s dumb. It’s so fucking dumb to _like_ your _coworker_.

Seunghyun isn’t the only dumb one though. Seungri was clueless enough to ask Jiyong about Seunghyun’s sexual proclivities at a tenderer age, back when he thought Jiyong had all the answers to everything. Instead of a helpful, reasoned reply, or at least a solid year of gay-themed ribbing, he got only a slight head shake. And when he pressed it, then tried to play it off like a joke, Jiyong told him to shut the fuck up. And that was all Jiyong would say. So Seungri shut up, on this one issue at least, so completely cowed that he didn’t even hint that his questions might be applicable to more than one Seunghyun. He couldn’t blame his younger self. At the time it had been easy for him to write off even the most confusing of boners. He’d been so awash in hormones that he could pop one just by looking up and seeing a particularly curvy cloud. Add in alcohol and he was even easier.

Add in attractive people who you were forced to spend inordinate amounts of time with, who drove you to actual fucking distraction multiple times per day on multiple levels, and that was a lot of confused boners for Seungri to rub away. Stupid sexy Seunghyun. Stupid sexy clouds!

So the years had passed. Years of passes. Seungri would laugh them off and Seunghyun always laughed too, with him or at him, and yet he alone still acted out in these drawn out, near obsessive phases that truly tested the limits of Seungri’s ability to ignore him. (Youngbae would start it, sure, but it was Seunghyun who never seemed finished.)

Also, there’s the fact that Seungri is a lot less confused about himself these days. He knows what gets him off. Thankfully cumulonimbus isn’t quite as stimulating as it used to be, but thunderstorms are still pretty sexy. So are some men.

It’s been ages since he’s thought about being with a guy. Longer than that since he actually has been.

“Fuck,” Seungri whispers. He empties one of the glasses in a giant gulp, then refills it.

Seunghyun was right. This one is gonna be really good.

 

* * *

 

Yvette is even more gorgeous than he remembered. Her dress is the color of the wine, with ribbon excuses for straps that keep slipping off her shoulders. He can tell he had too much to drink before she came over by the way she wavers in his vision, but even if nothing else happens tonight, the conversation has been worth it. Very stimulating.

She crosses her long legs, her bare toes pointing at him as she flexes her foot just a bit. She said she used to be a dancer. No, no, a _danseuse_. But he thinks her feet are too beautiful for her to have spent time much time _en pointe_.

“Vive la ballet,” he murmurs, even though the conversation has moved on, or lapsed completely for all he knows. He can’t quite keep track.

She laughs again, and she even sounds like the wine. Rich, smooth, sultry.

“You want to talk about dance more? You like it so much.”

“I like you,” he says, thinking he _did_ like dancing. Does? “Je t’aime.”

It’s a bit much, but he knew that phrase before he ever met her, and he so rarely gets to use it... Okay fine, it was too soon. He deserves the eye roll. Still, it pisses him off in a good way. He imagines her topless, stepping out of a tutu, walking toward him in nothing but sheer stockings. All legs and lean muscle as she sits on his lap and rolls herself forward with a dancer’s grace. He’ll reach between her legs, find the seam in the delicate fabric and rip—

His legs are already spread but he opens them a little more. Gotta give himself room to grow. Man, those pictures he took really were so good. But he’s better in the flesh, just like her. He hopes.

“Tell me how to say ‘come here.’” He’s not asking.

“Casse-toi,” she purrs. He repeats it. Her red mouth opens so wide when she laughs, and she flexes her ankle in a tight circle as one dress strap slides farther down her arm.

He says it again and she laughs even more, and he’s hot all over because he knows a joke at his expense when he hears one. He gets up and carefully navigates three steps to stand over her. She looks up at him with a suddenly cute expression he hasn’t seen on her face before, and he can so vividly imagine his cock being sucked, those lush lips smearing a rouge trail over his skin. He sees the details so clearly that the vision is more than daydream; it’s closer to premonition. On some plane of existence it’s already happening. He just has to make it happen on this one. He sits down next to her and snags the strap of her dress with the first joint of his middle finger.

“Casse-toi is come here?” he says, tugging. He wants to snap the strap. Maybe the red on her lips won’t ever make it to his dick. He might kiss it off her first. He can tell it’s not that 24 hour stuff that’s more paint than gloss, because her lips look so soft and wet.

“Oui.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” he whispers in Korean, and she understands him well enough. Her eyes light up and she breathes faster, leans toward him as he raises his other hand to the other strap—

That’s definitely his doorbell. Third time tonight. He wants to pretend he doesn’t hear it, except security is on strict orders not to send up anyone who isn’t preauthorised, which means it’s probably someone he shouldn’t ignore...and they’re buzzing over and over, repeatedly. He imagines Jonghoon, his most frequent unannounced visitor, all cute and tipsy with a packet of spicy chicken wings.

“Fuck off,” he sighs.

“You already said that,” she says, covering her mouth when she laughs this time. He stares at her, hard, then stands up.

Shit. It’s so many steps to his door.

 

* * *

 

He can hear Seungri’s voice. He doesn’t recognise the song, but those wistful blue tones are unmistakable. When he hears Daesung’s voice too, he realises it must be that demo the two of them recorded that Seungri won’t shut up about. Daesung gave up drinking for a whole month for it. Seunghyun isn’t sure he would ever have that kind of willpower, for anyone or anyth—

Damn. Those pics had been ball-achingly good, but Seungri is always better in person.

Now that the door is open he can hear Seungri’s voice layered under Daesungie’s, sighing that he won’t say it if you won’t say it first, which is a great line, except someone else already wrote it.

Seungri’s expressions are less guarded than his lyrics, transitioning from shock to something Seunghyun can’t quite name, but it makes him so nervous he reaches out to grab Seungri’s shoulder and give him a little shake.

“If you wanted to cover The Cure, you should’ve done ‘Boys Don’t Cry.’” Totally his song.

Seungri blinks his way out of whatever that was as soon as Seunghyun touches him, his eyes and mouth setting into a familiar closed-off expression. Usually it takes him much longer to reach this point. Seunghyun thinks he must’ve really gotten to him before. Maybe it was the poo emoji?

“Hyung,” Seungri whispers, “now is not the time.”

Or it’s the alcohol. Seungri smells more intoxicated than intoxicating. Since when does he drink alone?

“Not the time for what?” Seunghyun says, pushing on Seungri’s shoulder to give himself room to get in. Seungri gives way, but only heavily, and Seunghyun can hear his irritated breath whistling through his nostrils as he starts shuffling off his shoes in the narrow entryway. Well, they’re more like glorified house slippers. Seungri should just be honoured that Seunghyun put on actual pants and a clean hoodie before he came over.

Seungri looks pretty casual himself, apart from the clenched fists. Seunghyun straightens up and waves away the smell.

“I guess you started without me. Ya, what happened to your lip?”

Seungri flinches away when Seunghyun’s thumb brushes a scab on his lower lip.

“Hyung, I’m serious. This isn’t the time for one of your stupid jokes.”

Seunghyun feels offended. Which is ridiculous, he realises, because a joke was exactly what he was going to play this visit off as if Seungri wasn’t...

Wasn’t what? Ready to take their non-relationship to the next non-level?

“But it’s always time for wine,” Seunghyun says, super seriously, looking Seungri dead in the eye while he holds up his bottle. Seungri stares back. It makes Seunghyun feel kind of tingly.

A woman comes into view behind Seungri, sliding the strap of her dress up her arm with nails lacquered to rouge perfection. She doesn’t say anything, but Seunghyun catches the look of recognition on her face. He understands the next look she gives him all too well, and it makes him instantly tired.

Seungri is obviously drunk, but he must have noticed Seunghyun looking beyond him, because he turns around. Then he whips back to Seunghyun, a hard smile on his face.

“Ah hyung, why didn’t you remind me to give you your jacket before you left? I’ll go get it for you!”

Seunghyun is confused, but he’s more than familiar with Seungri-in-storytime mode.

“I’ll get it,” he says, trying to catch Seungri as he backs out of the hallway. He averts his eyes from the woman’s as he brushes past her without a greeting.

Seungri is near running as he passes through the kitchen. He slips on the floor and hits the door to his closet, fumbling with the handle before he gets it open.

Seunghyun sets his bottle down on a counter before following him in. He’s almost immediately distracted by the Basquiat print on the wall, so the fragrant whack of leather against his chest a second later surprises him.

“Here,” Seungri hisses. His lips are trembling. “Take this one and I’ll call a car for you. I just drove you home an hour ago, remember?”

Seunghyun laughs and shoves the jacket back at Seungri.

“You were serious about playing your own songs? Don’t you have a proper playlist for these things?”

“She asked me to!”

Despite the smell, Seungri looks more pissed off than pissed, which is a good thing. Maybe Seunghyun can get him to come to his senses and realise this woman is not worth whatever he’s willing to compromise, just for the sake of companionship and perky tits.

She does have good taste in men though. Seunghyun will give her that.

“Great, she’s probably uploading the recordings to her blog right now. Gotta hustle for those hits.”

“She hasn’t had her phone out since she got here!”

“Maybe she’s wearing a wire.”

“Maybe some people aren’t addicted to their phones,” Seungri scoffs, pushing the jacket back at him.

“Can you really lecture me on this?”

“Shut up!”

“Did you just tell me to shut up?”

Somehow they’ve ended up holding each other’s hands through the material of the jacket, shoving back and forth. Seunghyun is being nice, he thinks, because he could probably have Seungri on the floor already if he really wanted to. But once they’re on the floor, all bets are off.

Stupid sexy jiu jitsu.

“Did you bring this?” a low feminine voice coos behind him, in heavily accented Korean. Now it’s Seungri’s turn to look over Seunghyun’s shoulder, and the puppyesque mingling of loss and desire that comes over his face is almost enough to make Seunghyun weep. Why is Seungri like this?

“You can speak Korean?” Seungri asks, releasing Seunghyun’s hands. The jacket sags loose in his fingers.

She ignores him, repeating her first question as Seunghyun turns to face her.

“Yes,” he answers after a long pause. “A gift for my maknae for giving me a ride.”

“This is very good,” she says, evaluating the bottle with almost the same look on her face as when she’d seen Seunghyun in the entryway.

“Yes.”

“You should stay.” She smiles.

There’s another pregnant pause, until Seungri drops the jacket. He steps over it, then grabs the bottle from her by its neck.

“You like this? Let’s drink it!”

His English is high pitched, brittle with false cheer.

She doesn’t look at him as he leaves, but she has a steady gaze for Seunghyun.

“You look so handsome in glasses,” she says.

“You too.” She gets a funny look on her face, but Seunghyun doesn’t wait for a reply.  He has to brush past her again to follow Seungri into the kitchen.

Seunghyun watches while Seungri opens a drawer with a little more force than is strictly necessary, cooking implements jangling against each other as he searches for something. He knows Seungri won’t want to hear what he has to say. He’ll miss the irony of Seunghyun’s expertise in these matters, disregard his lived experience, and focus on how Seunghyun sounds like a judgmental ass. A massive hypocrite at best. But Seunghyun has to try.

“Seungri,” he begins.

He‘s stunned into silence when Seungri turns around, raised corkscrew in hand. The possibility of being stabbed by his inebriated maknae should not be as exciting as it is. It doesn’t help that he keeps thinking of the pictures. Seunghyun blurts out the first thing that comes to mind to distract Seungri. Or himself. “This should be decanted.”

If looks could kill. But then Seungri visibly calms, touching Seunghyun on the arm to lead him around. He sounds sweet when he speaks next.

“Okay, hyung. Please sit down. Entertain our guest.”

She’s already seated, watching them like a show. Seunghyun resists.

“No, you sit. I’ll pour,” he says, his tone brooking no dissent. Custom dictates the eldest should be served, but that also means he can call the shots. He doesn’t trust Seungri not to spill any more than he trusts himself to be polite. And Seungri has always been better at small talk. Seungri goes with a sidelong glance, but the conversation picks up almost immediately after he sits down. Seunghyun takes his time with the prep and pour, wondering just what the fuck he’s doing here. His day went from boring to surreal as fast as Seungri could take a selfie.

He serves the glasses with a smile, mostly for Seungri’s benefit, but after he collects his own from the counter he sits as far away from the other two as he can, in one of the single chairs on the other side of the coffee table.

“Mmm.” She directs her approval at Seunghyun. “This is good.”

Seunghyun realises he doesn’t know her name. Seungri never introduced them, and she didn’t bother. Maybe she thinks Seunghyun remembers from this morning.

“The one I served before is from him, too,” Seungri points out. Seunghyun can’t tell if he’s bitter or appreciative.

After a moment’s silence, Seunghyun decides to try. He enunciates carefully in English, but puts just the right touch of cool and unaffected into his voice.

“Why are you here?”

Let her take that where she wants to go. She smiles and sips.

“To work. Also visit my family in Gwangju.”

Seunghyun raises his eyebrows. Seungri is staring at her like she’s announced she’s Beyoncé’s long lost twin.

“You are surprised?” she asks, looking at Seunghyun.

“Your daddy is from Gwangju.”

He doesn’t know where that came from, he honestly doesn’t, but it makes Seungri choke into his glass, wine dribbling over his lip. She glances his way and then it’s back to Seunghyun.

“No, he’s from—”

“France,” Seungri says, wheezing out the word.

“Switzerland,” she says at the same time.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Seungri yells in Korean, and then he convulses into a proper coughing fit. He drains his glass even though he’s only half recovered, then flings himself out of his seat, barking his shin on the low table. He winces, his attempt to straighten it only making it more crooked. “Who wants another drink? Me. I do.”

That finally managed to get her attention, but probably not the kind Seungri wanted. Now she’s lifting her brows at Seunghyun.

“He’s good at geography,” Seunghyun says, switching back to Korean.

“My _mother_ is Korean,” she says.

“Mine too,” Seunghyun shrugs. He fingers the fuzz on the lime green cushion behind him, wishing Seungri would stop loudly slamming stuff around in the kitchen and admit to himself that this person was a less than ideal match. His eyes drift to a wad of tissue on the carpet. It must have been hidden by the table before.

Is that blood?  He reaches for it.

“Excuse me.”

He pockets the tissue as he enters the kitchen again.

“What are you looking for now? Stop leaving me with her,” he whispers. Then he loudly comments about the quality of Seungri’s cleaning service, how he can’t believe they leave trash under the furniture.

“It’s not my fault you SUCK at talking,” Seungri whisper-hisses. “Everything was fine before.”

“Why do I get the feeling you weren’t doing much talking with her?” Seunghyun holds up the tissue. Seungri looks confused, then he blushes.

“That’s not...ugh, I can’t find my bottle opener. Move,” he grumbles.

“It’s in your hand, bro.” Seunghyun thinks about suggesting he’s had enough to drink, then figures that really might get him stabbed. He holds out his hand, palm up. “Just let me do it.”

“Hyung.” Seungri is shifting his weight from leg to leg. His grip on the corkscrew firms, then loosens. Seunghyun takes it from him, wishing they were alone so he could take Seungri’s hand instead. “Why?”

Seunghyun looks at him for a long second or so. Seungri is drunk anyway, probably won’t remember shit in the morning. Why bother with any of this?

“Go sit down, Seungri,” he says, just audible. Seungri goes.

This time when Seunghyun comes back, with small glasses of soda water only, Seungri’s in the middle of what sounds like a muddled retelling of a tour anecdote. Seunghyun ignores her eye contact, directing his own into his water. Fascinating bubbles.

“...so anyway, my manager told me he’s in love with GD, a _big_ secret for like, five years now.  Then he goes to Paris, and they send me so many French kiss pictures from the Eiffel Tower. And _now_ I have to sing at their _wedding_. Nyongtory is dead!”

Seunghyun looks up fast. What the fuck?

“Oh wow, that’s funny,” she says, smiling at Seunghyun.

Seungri’s looking at Seunghyun too, and it _was_ funny, what he said, but it’s also sad, how she didn’t hear any of it.  Seunghyun looks back into his glass.

In the past Seunghyun might’ve just gone for it. He knows her type, revealed in the vaguely amused tinge to her every expression. She’s from money, she’s smart, she’s dealt with her fair share of men just like...well, like them. She’d bust Seunghyun’s balls for the joy of it, because she suspects all he cares about is how to get her to touch them. On some level he used to get off on that, used to think he deserved to be treated that way, because maybe she was right. What would he do to her besides strip away every part of her finds undesirable, as easily as he’d strip off her clothes, until there’s nothing left to her? Just another willing body.

He deserved it, all the nothing he got out of it. Does Seungri ever feel this way?

Seungri is asleep. And he’s so gone he’s about to start drooling on himself. What the fuck? Seunghyun wishes he had that kind of on/off switch.

When Seungri lets out a soft snore, she finally notices him again.

“He trusts you a lot,” she says, turning that enigmatic smile back to Seunghyun. “You often go with him on dates?”

Seunghyun freezes at that, not sure what she means. When she rises and starts toward him the oddest sense of relief makes him sag back in his chair.

He lets her straddle his lap, tight skirt riding high up her thighs. She bends toward him, shrugging, and the dress straps give way like they’re meant to.  She looks into his eyes, making sure he follows hers down, and holy shit. That was the best tit drop he’s seen in months. _Years._  Her hands burn on his, small but sure as she leads him.

He jerks out of her grasp with millimeters to spare.

Seungri is still dead to the world.

“Ah,” she says, turning her head to follow his line of sight. She laughs softly as she turns back to him. “Ah, okay.”

“I’ll call a car for you,” Seunghyun says. He focuses carefully on her eyes only, which are dangerous enough on their own. 

She’s silent for a beat, tapping her lip.

“It would be good for you,” she says.

Seunghyun feels the disgust well up in his chest. God, she’s relentless.  She must see something in his expression because she widens her eyes.

“No, not me. _Him_.”

Seunghyun pushes her off his lap. She manages to keep her balance, but at least she loses the smile for a second. Yeah, he definitely knows her type. She doesn’t know anything, he tells himself. She doesn’t know _shit_.

She recovers quickly, puts herself back in her dress and smooths her hair. 

“Don’t worry,” she says, bending to pat him on the knee with her fingertips. It takes everything in him not to slap her hand away. “I won’t tell him.”

“Leave,” Seunghyun says. And because Seungri likes her, and because they’re both pathetic, he adds, “Please.”

“The car?”

He makes the call to his own driver, someone he can trust. He thinks. Well, if any of this gets out, he has a good cover story this time.

But what’s to cover, he wonders, watching the elevator doors slide shut on her back. Why am I doing this?

Seungri usually sleeps mouth ajar and legs wide apart, but tonight he’s like a shrimp on the couch, arms crossed and lips closed in a hard line.

This song sounds familiar. The playlist loop is confirmed when Daesung starts singing. Seunghyun picks up Seungri’s phone from the coffee table and hits pause.

He hesitates with the phone in his hand, looking at the sore spot on Seungri’s lip. He thinks of nights gone by, when the silence after the music didn’t feel so fucking heavy.

A car horn from the street below makes him jump. Seungri groans and curls in tighter on himself.

“Seungri-ya,” Seunghyun says, reaching out for his shoulder. “I’m going home now.”

Seungri just frowns. Seunghyun jostles him.

“Ya, listen to me. We have a morning schedule!”

Seungri flips, smashing his face into the couch back and whining something unintelligible into the upholstery.

Damn, but his ass is as great as ever. Seunghyun scoffs and shoves the phone into one of Seungri’s back pockets. Seungri doesn’t move.

“Go to bed, I’m serious.”

He pauses in the hallway, hand on the door.

There’s no sound from the living room. Seungri is alone. Seunghyun tells himself that’s better.

 

* * *

 

Another long day spent sweating behind cameras. It’s almost over, Seungri reassures himself.  He does his best to feign interest in the preview clips Jiyong insists he review during their supposed break time, nitpicking this awkward pose or that constipated facial expression. 

Youngbae sidles up from just out of his peripheral vision and tickles him for the 73rd time that day.

“Wake up, maknae. You’ve already been asleep half the afternoon."

Seungri grabs a Subway wrapper from the catering table next to them and chucks the wad at him halfheartedly.  Mistake. Youngbae comes back at him brandishing six inches of uneaten sandwich.

“Augh! Get your armpit out of my face, hyung!”

Seungri struggles away from the sweaty bare arm around his neck, but not before he’s got mayonnaise smeared halfway across his cheek.

“Sexyyy,” Jiyong croons.  “You should leave that on for the next shot.”

Seungri scrubs it off with the back of his hand, skewering both of them and some giggling stylist onlookers with his most serious glare.  None of them even flinch. Youngbae takes a bite out of the sandwich and shrugs.

“That’s been sitting out for at least three hours,” Seungri gripes. He hopes it makes him puke up his toenails.

“Not bad,” Youngbae shrugs.

“Speaking of armpits,” says a voice behind him. 

Seungri jumps. It would be awesome if, after two weeks of Seungri lowkey avoiding them all, they could stop sneaking up on him.

“Huh?” 

“You never answered my texts,” Daesung complains.

Seungri could play dumb, but he’s too tired.

“She waxes,” he says flatly. 

“Damn,” Daesung says with sincere disappointment. Then he brightens. “Does she wax everywhere?”

Seungri sighs. The fuck is wrong with all of them today?

Well, not all.  Seunghyun’s standing some distance away, chatting quietly with the assistant daubing sweat off his temples. He hasn’t joined in on Youngbae’s tickle torture even once, which should be a relief, but Seungri is more weirded out by his abstinence than anything.

Is Seunghyun mad?  Sad?

At him?

He wishes he could remember what exactly was said that night. Something something ballet?  Of course, there’s firmer evidence of what went down before Seunghyun came over.

Seungri is going to delete those texts soon.

His phone on the front of his thigh feels overwarm.  Seungri takes it out and shifts it to his back pocket.  The director will yell at him when he inevitably forgets about it and ruins the shot with a brick-shaped ass cheek. _Have some respect for continuity, please!_

“That was fast,” Daesung continues.  “I didn’t think you’d actually ask her out.”

“Faster than you think,” Seungri mutters.

“You should get hyung a date,” Daesung says, tilting his chin to make sure Seungri catches his meaning.  There’s only one person his statement could apply to anyway, given the very taken status of the other two. “You have to know someone he would like.”

“Uhhh…”

“He keeps calling me at night,” Daesung says under his breath.  “I feel bad, but he has the worst timing—”

Jiyong interrupts them with an indelicate snort.

“He’d do better with a dating app than he would with Seungri playing matchmaker.”

Seungri simpers at him. It’s not that Jiyong is wrong, necessarily, but that smug ‘eat shit’ look was old in 2006.

“No way, Seungri is a love expert,” says Youngbae. “He’s our Tinder representative.”

“That was years ago,” Seungri cringes.

“Didn’t they drop you because your track record was making them look bad?” Jiyong teases.

“Remember I was dating someone at the time,” Seungri sighs, the fight bleeding out of him. “She wasn’t a big fan of the campaign.”  
  
“See? Love expert.”  Youngbae reaches out to pull Seungri into a side hug and doesn’t tickle him. Seungri relaxes against him in spite of the vague mayonnaise aroma. His gaze wanders. Seunghyun looks startled when their eyes meet, but he motions for the toweling to stop and starts over.  Seungri stands up straight again.

“No one uses Tinder anymore anyway,” says Jiyong. Seungri can tell he feels at least a little guilty.  Stupid married Jiyong.

“What do they use?”  Seunghyun asks as he arrives at Jiyong’s side. 

Jiyong says the name of a popular app in Japan, where his wife is from. He’s close, but his pronunciation is garbage. Seungri laughs and corrects him, glad to have the upper hand again. Seunghyun takes his phone from an interior pocket of his jacket.

“Say it again.” He looks at Seungri, waiting.

Seungri flicks his eyes to Daesung and receives the barest eyebrow raise. Seungri repeats the name. Seunghyun starts typing slowly.

“Hyung, you’re really going to download it?” Youngbae asks, Suddenly Concerned.

Seunghyun shrugs, then scowls at his screen.

“Probably not, because I can’t find it. Hey—!”

Enough of this bullshit. Seunghyun shakes the sting out of his hand while Seungri finds the app on his phone for him. Seunghyun grabs it back just as he hits download.

“You’re welcome,” Seungri says.

Seunghyun’s lower lip is out, but he foregoes his usual whine in favour of another question. Whoa.

“How does it work?”

“Uh.”  Seungri has to take a second to think.  How to sound knowledgeable, but not overly familiar? “It’s just the same as all the rest, really. You set up a profile and then you can look at other people. Message them if you have mutual interest.”

“If it’s the same as all the others, why is this one so popular?” Daesung asks.

Seungri stares at him. Is he expected to be the group’s marketing research expert now?

“Seungri did a shit job explaining it,” Jiyong jumps in. “This one is trendy because it has a high match satisfaction rate.”

“Satisfaction,” Seunghyun repeats. Daesung snickers.

“With um, compatibility scores and, like, longevity of couples after the match or some shit.”

Seungri rolls his eyes. He has a hunch he might have more experience with these apps than Jiyong, and really, they are all the same, but of course Jiyong has to sound like he knows everything.

“Is there a language option?” Seunghyun says, frowning at the phone again.

“Let me look,” Seungri says, reaching out.

“I can do it,” Seunghyun says, backing away and cradling the phone to his chest.

“Aw, hyung. Let him set it up for you. He really wants to,” Daesung laughs. Seungri gleefully murders him in his mind. Tank full of sharks? Papercuts to the carotids? Mob of ovulating fangirls?

“Aish. If I want to have a profile full of terrible jokes and puppy face filters I’ll just steal some from his Instagram.”

“Whatever,” Seungri says. He used that filter _once_. _Maybe_ twice.

“You sure you want a profile at all?” Youngbae asks. “You’re really going to use it?”

“Just for the next week,” Seunghyun says, then shakes his head when Youngbae upgrades to Concerned For Real. “I’m just kidding, bro. But I could probably score you some kawaii dick pics if you want.”

Youngbae and Daesung grimace, though Jiyong seems to find that scenario particularly hilarious. Seungri finds the table full of lunch leftovers very interesting at this exact moment in time.

 _Kawaii_. He’s sick of being kawaii. Good thing his dick is _not_ kawaii. Damn, no one ate this cookie!

The bright blip of a notification makes him stop with the cookie halfway to his mouth. He drops it, and his hand is almost in his back pocket before he hears Jiyong laugh again.

He looks over his shoulder to see him pointing at something on Seunghyun’s phone screen. Youngbae peers at it too, much less amused. Seunghyun taps and the notification noise blips again.

Shit. Seungri is going to have to adjust his own settings. But first he’s going to eat this fucking cookie.

 

* * *

 

In the mad rush of pre-tour preparations Seunghyun mostly forgets about the app, but it comes back just as strong as BIGBANG. They’re deplaning in Osaka when he he hears and feels a short _brrt!_ He glances at his phone, expecting a text about roaming charges, but instead there’s a naked anime baby aiming a heart-tipped arrow at him. It takes him a second, but he manages to work out the meaning of the notification. He never did figure out how to change the language setting, but he’s not letting Seungri get his hands on his phone again.

Seunghyun reminds himself to delete those texts. He will soon. 

Anyway, the app cheerfully informs him that other users are nearby. He tries to look at their profiles, but it prompts him to complete his first. Eh, what the hell. It’s a good time killer on the ride to the hotel, if nothing else. 

He doesn’t upload any pictures of himself to the app, unless the shirtless pic of George Clooney jumping into Lake Como he saved to his phone for no particular reason counts.

Name? Clooney-kun, of course.

He doesn’t spend much time on the biography section, either — he can’t think with Youngbae shooting overcurious glances from the other side of the van, so he just adds a short greeting in Japanese, then a longer one in Korean explaining that he’ll be in Osaka for a working weekend.

What kind of match are you looking for? Seunghyun selects casual. He also ticks drinking buddy, because it amuses him as a euphemism.

The stats take him slightly more time to fill out, because he has to decide how truthful he wants to be. Eventually he drops his age down a year and adds one inch to his height. On the list of traits he’d value in a potential drinking buddy, he ticks “likes to laugh” and “adventurous.” By which Seunghyun means, happy to do butt stuff.

He hesitates the longest over the sexual preference slider. He knows which way he ought to drag it.

But if he’s really gonna use this thing just for a hookup, men tend to be in and out quicker. No neediness, no drama, no wishes for kisses. Not that Seunghyun isn’t a needy, dramatic asshole who loves to cuddle, but there’s no need to get in too deep with a drinking buddy.

He moves the slider all the way over to ♂and hits save. The app starts buzzing at once, informing Seunghyun that he already has five or so potential matches based on compatibility factors and location. Youngbae shakes his head and mutters at his own phone. Seunghyun at least knows how to turn the sound on his phone off, so he can peruse the locals without twisting Youngbae’s panties any further. His match feed updates in real time as their route takes them past several Osaka suburbs, entries appearing and disappearing faster than he can tap on them. It’s not until their van reaches the hotel that the app settles down.  Seunghyun scrolls until a thumbnail near the end of the list catches his eye. He taps and almost can’t control his expression when the main profile picture expands.

The ass taking up 90% of his phone screen is lovingly encased in peach-toned briefs so tight they could be a second skin. Seunghyun almost goes back to check on the slider in his settings. Is this really a guy? He turns up the brightness on his screen. The barest hint of crack shadow shows through the fabric, curving up into an enticing twist of spine. Below the full cheeks are pale, lightly furred thighs. Going by his rear lower half, the guy is extremely tappable. No, better than that — he looks possibly worth the risk.

Seunghyun taps to see the next picture. He plays off his shocked laugh as a cough and closes the app in a hurry.  Holy fuck. _Possibly?_ This guy could have a face like President Yang and Seunghyun would still want to nail him six ways from Sunday. Which is tomorrow. Anyway, he’ll have to continue his perusal later, when he’s alone. He indicates that he likes the profile the way Jiyong showed him.

They all wave goodbye to each other once they’re inside the lobby, splitting up into pairs with their respective managers to get a little R&R before the pre-show fanmeeting the next morning. Seunghyun sends his manager on a convenience store run for red bean buns and natto flavoured potato chips. Finally, he’s alone.

Seunghyun ignores a few new matches to go directly back to the peach guy.  Actually, he has a name on here, an obvious pseudonym, like Seunghyun’s. Riba Momo. _Momo_ makes Seunghyun grin — yeah, he knew that one already. The other word will require further research, when Seunghyun feels like reading. There’s not much written on Riba-san’s profile, actually, but what there is is so heavy on slang that Seunghyun gives up after a few seconds trying to sound out the syllables. It’s fine. Even if he never talks to this guy, he’s provided some primo spank bank material. He’ll have to thank Jiyong for the app suggestion...and maybe Seungri.

That second picture. Oh god. Riba-san’s momo is still visible in profile, but the real star of this shot is his — however you say _big dick —_ which Seunghyun should definitely know, but most words escape him right now.  He’ll ask Daesung for a refresher course in Japanese romance later. Seungri would definitely know, but then he would also know Seunghyun is using this app and for some reason that makes him feel...embarrassed? No, no. It’s just that he can’t give him the satisfaction.

He actually groans over the third picture, which is worse because it’s even better.  Riba-san has a few fingers slung inside the crotch of his briefs, tugging them down and back so the viewer has an unobstructed view of his cute bush — healthy, but not too wild — and the base of his thick shaft.  The rest of him is still covered up, but the outline reveals precious details: the rim of his head, the tiny dent of his hole at the tip. This dick is kawaii as fuck.

Seunghyun should take a screenshot for Youngbae.

The suite door beeps at the same time Seunghyun receives a notification. His app lights up with a wash of smiling hearts and an exuberant message from the naked baby: MUTUAL LIKE!  Seunghyun nearly chokes on his own spit.

His manager sets the snacks down on the counter.  Seunghyun peeks over the back of the couch.

“Ya! That was so fast!” he complains.  His manager stares.

“You ask me for the same thing every time. I know the location of every convenience store within a five kilometre radius of this hotel.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Seunghyun turns back around.

“Don’t you want them?”

Seunghyun should not stand up at this time.

“I’ll eat it later,” he says.

“Aish.” 

After the overly efficient man goes into his own room, Seunghyun reopens the app.  This time there are sparkling envelopes all over the screen. He taps. The message is in Korean.

[You made a mistake on your profile.] 

Informal language!  Seunghyun’s nostrils flare. Then he chills. Reminds himself to think of the peach, and the fuzz.

[Where?]

It takes a few minutes. Seunghyun goes back to look at the pictures.

[In the Japanese part]

Ugh god, obviously. Sassy little shit.

[Sorry, Riba-san. It’s not my first language.]

[It’s not mine either]

UGH.  Seunghyun hasn’t been this hard in awhile, and they’re what, five messages in?

[But you are fluent?]

[Yes]

Good for you, Seunghyun thinks. He can’t decide how he wants to act with this guy, exactly. Well, he’ll act however he needs to act to get with him. He decides to walk the middle line.

[Are you a teacher?]

[Depends on what you want to learn]

Seunghyun laughs. He considers asking him how to say “big dick,” but he’d rather not jump straight into that.  He stares at the app screen a minute before he’s hit with sudden inspiration from his own profile.

[Know any good jokes for Japanese clients?]

[I’m a master of jokes.]

Seunghyun snorts. Okay.

[But you should be careful] Riba-san continues.  [Korean humour is different from Japanese]

[Teach me how to be careful]

[You already seem careful to me]

[How so]

[You didn’t put up a real picture]

[What! Am I so handsome you can’t believe it?]

[So this really is George Clooney]

[It really is]

[...]

[You should be more excited]

[I don’t really like older guys]

“Come ON,” Seunghyun says out loud.

“What?” his manager yells.

“NOTHING,” Seunghyun yells back.  He looks at Riba-san’s stats quickly.  25? For a relationship, that would probably be a no-go.  For a hookup, Seunghyun can’t wait to get his hands on 1998’s finest. 

[Then why did you match with me?]

[You have to match with someone before you can message them]

So. He just matched with him to tell him he was wrong? Who IS this guy?

[Where are you from?]

[Busan]

Flew all the way to Osaka just to get his head messed with by some little shit from Busan?  And yet he still has a boner. Fine. This is fine.

[Me too. Love the beach.]  Two can play at this game. It’s gonna be lies all the way down, until Riba-san goes down on him.  Riba- _chan_.

[Me too!]  Riba-chan adds a cute smiley this time.  Huh. He might genuinely like the beach? [What’s your favourite colour?]

Uhh, the fuck?

[Black.]  Pink.

[What’s your favourite music?]

Seunghyun considers answering truthfully, because he judges people hard on this one himself. In the end he decides it’s better if this guy doesn’t know anything about him.  It’s possible he might recognise him. No need to give him any real receipts to back up a tabloid story.

[Opera. Some classical]

[Wow. If it’s really time to party, right?  Bach on the beach?]

[Did I pass your test, Riba-chan?]  Seunghyun adds a kiss face.

[Maybe.]

[Maybe?]

[I know I’m handsome. But I have to take you on your word? You won’t send me even one picture?]

Seunghyun squirms. Knows he’s handsome. This kid is off the charts. But Seunghyun is kinda super into it, to be honest. He likes teasing these types til they beg, destroying them til they can’t even remember their own names, and then the ultimate finishing move — finish on their face.  Speaking of faces, maybe Riba-chan has the right attitude. There’s really no point acting coy about it. Seunghyun knows the value of his.

[I guarantee you’ll let me touch your momo. If I’m wrong, I’ll put a bag over my head, and I’ll still suck your dick. Then we can pretend like we don’t know each other when we bump into each other on the beach.]

Riba-chan sends a crying-while-laughing face.

[Is that a yes]

[A blowjob from a bag? So hot]

Seunghyun sends another kiss emoji, then about six more.  He suddenly feels like replying in nothing but emoji.

[We should speak in Japanese so you can get better at it] Riba-chan says.  Buzzkill.

[We should fuck]

He’s slightly surprised at himself, but this guy has really gotten to him.  Also it’s been approximately 1,000 years since he’s gotten laid. Mouthy little Korean shit with a world-class ass?  Sure, he’ll take it. This is more than fine. Besides, him being Korean is maybe not so bad. Seunghyun has always been kind of a homebody.  He’s taking baby steps to get back out there.

[Send me a pic.]

Oh god. Seunghyun hates him so much. He’s in love.

[I’ll think about it]

 

* * *

 

Seunghyun can’t stop thinking about him.  He slept poorly, same as always the night before a performance, and even the old standby midnight wank hadn’t helped. It didn’t help his current pants situation either, but the libido oversupply has given him an unusual amount of energy.  It was just a stupid fanmeeting, but he really gave it his all. He made all of his dongsaengs suffer his spirited affections, with a special focus on maknae line as always.

“What’s gotten into you?” Daesung asked into the mic at one point, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“All my love for you.”  Seunghyun grinned an apology at him when the crowd burst into thirsty screams. He’d maybe grabbed a little too hard, one time too many, but todae was always a crowd pleaser here.  It was important to consider the fans. Plus Riba-chan had never gotten around to sending him any jokes, so Seunghyun’s verbal material was a little stale.

As for Seungri, Seunghyun noted the continuing awkwardness between them, but in the spirit of his current ass-related interests, he decided to set it aside. Seungri was surprisingly quick on his feet for someone who looked like he hadn’t slept at all when he showed up in the makeup chair that morning.  Probably out fucking around last night, literally or figuratively, though he just yawned and scratched and blathered on about something to do with ramen when Jiyong grilled him. Even so, Seunghyun reckons his rear sports a couple decent pinch-sized marks. Those jeans — and his angry expression — were too cute.

After the fanmeeting wraps there’s the usual hustle and bustle backstage as everyone packs up and prepares for the next event.  Pictures to take, merch to sign, showers to take. They have a concert that night, and before that Seunghyun and Jiyong are hitting up the new Murakami exhibit. The schedule is kind of ridiculous, but it’s hard for Seunghyun to get Jiyong to himself these days, so it’s worth it.

Still, he has to admit he’s distracted. A little hot under the collar, he thinks, pulling at his actual collar.

He’s thinking about it without thinking about it.  He’s been trying to Better Himself for awhile now. Not that he wants to temper anything, necessarily, it’s just...he wants to be really sure of what he’s getting into before he gets into it. 

Maybe just one picture. Just one. Showing nothing recognisable.  What would impress Riba-chan the most?

Seunghyun has several physical assets, he knows.  He also knows what _riba_ means now, and though acquiescing to the demand for a picture is a submissive move, Seunghyun thinks he knows a way to assert himself in a way that Riba-chan will respond to.

He keeps the suit pants buttoned up, but he unzips.  Takes out what he’s got, which is freshly showered, flushed and half hard in response to the message exchange he’s drafting in his head. Takes the picture, zips up, checks to make sure identifying details are obscured by the leftover haze on the mirror, decapitates himself with the crop tool.

He opens the app. He’s really doing this, he thinks. It’s not like he doesn’t know other people who do this. Not like he doesn’t have those people’s pictures sitting on his phone at this very moment.  But he...is really...doing this.

[At work right now,] he sends.  Riba-chan is quick to respond as always, so Seunghyun thinks he can’t be as disinterested as he’s pretending to be.  Or maybe he’s just always on his phone?

[On a Sunday, so hardworking!]

Ha. Yeah, Seunghyun is hard at work. 

[Thinking about you]

[What about me?]

Cute.

[You know what I’m thinking about]

[Maybe this?]

Seunghyun finds himself gaping at the screen once again. Why is this little shit torturing him with bare-ass-peeking-out-of-the-bubbles tub shots? Did he just have that ready to go?  How did he take it? Okay, don’t question it. Just appreciate it.

It’s art.

[Are you in the bath right now]

Because if so, Seunghyun intends to get more pics out of him before he sends his.

[That’s from last night. Had a long day, needed to unwind]

[Any more pictures of you unwinding?]

[That’s your last freebie. Because I feel bad for you being shit at Japanese and working on a Sunday]

[I don’t feel bad at all]  Seunghyun sends his own pic. [because you’re going to be sitting on this soon]

[…]

[You like it, Riba-chan?]

[can soon be now?]

Seunghyun laughs.

[You forgot I’m at work]

[fuck]

[Later ^_^]

[how much later?]

[I’ll let you know]

He’s still laughing to himself when someone bangs on the door.

“You better not be taking more toilet selfies!” Youngbae says. “Jiyong says, and I quote, ‘tell that tall bitch we’re going to be late.’”

“Can he really lecture me on that?” Seunghyun says as he opens the door, tucking his phone away safely in his suit jacket. 

Youngbae smirks.

“Other people need to use the bathroom too,” grumps Seungri, pushing in between both of them.

“You should’ve just gone back to the hotel,” Youngbae says to the door shutting in his face. “Damn, what’s he got jammed up his ass this time?”

 

* * *

 

His phone won’t quit.  As soon as he and Jiyong get to the concert venue for a quick rehearsal it blips. Seunghyun recognises the noise by now. He thinks the thing should be more discerning, especially in large cities. Seems like he’s always close to this match or that one, but he’s too obsessive to pay attention to anyone else. He quickly checks. No new messages from Riba-chan.

The phone goes off again later, just as a coordi-noona informs Seunghyun that it’s his turn in the hair chair. She herds him and Jiyong into a nearby dressing room.

Seungri has just finished. He’s peering into a mirror, poking at a few strands on the top of his head.

“Relax, maknae,” Jiyong says, coming up behind him and putting hands around his waist.  “You look so pretty.” Seunghyun wholeheartedly agrees, but he keeps quiet. Seungri looks embarrassed and starts to pull away.  There are cameras on, filming for a DVD. Seunghyun thinks of the fanmeeting that morning. Seungri had reposted a fantaken photo with a caption about how much fun he’d had with his hyungs, how the crowd made them all feel young again. Hmm. Maybe what this situation calls for is less romance and more farce. Maybe he preferred an ass pinch to a hug.

“Hey sexy, show us what you got!” he cries, pulling at Seungri’s arm to tug him away from Jiyong. Seungri looks even more uncomfortable for a second, until some of the staff joins in with the catcalling. Seungri gives in, trading his abashed expression for campy come hither, holding his hands behind his head and tilting his hips to show off his S-line. Jiyong pretends to be embarrassed.  Seunghyun just watches, smiling.

Ugh, his ass. If Seunghyun doesn’t get some soon he’s gonna go out of his mind. He wants a beer, but as soon as he makes a move toward the food, the stylist noona yells at him about hat hair and makes him sit down instead.

By the time he’s been blown out and combed and gelled for the second time that day, Youngbae and Daesung appear in full costume. 

“Are you wearing gold too?” Daesung asks, holding up one sequined sleeve.

“I don’t know.”

“Seunghyuns in green, leader in red,” snaps the stylist. “Get over here.”

“We look like Christmas trees,” Youngbae says, pleased.

“The gold looks good with your hair,” Jiyong offers, plucking at Youngbae’s blonde before tossing his own, black. “I’m jealous.”

“Where is Seungri?” Daesung asks, looking around the room. “Is he already dressed?”

Seunghyun stands stiff, holding his arms out to his sides while the stylist sews a quick stitch in his waistband. 

“I didn’t see him leave,” Jiyong says.

“Just like always,” Youngbae sighs.

“The MC from this morning is here,” Daesung says in a lilting tone. Seunghyun squirms and the stylist glares at him. “He gave her VIP tickets.”

“His type?” Youngbae says, smiling faintly.

“Very cute.”  Daesung waggles his eyebrows.

Seunghyun shuffles his legs and the stylist swats  him. He pouts.

“Ehh, he’s out of luck,” Jiyong says, slipping his arms into the jacket his stylist holds up for him. “Did you notice how she couldn’t stop checking out hyung this morning?”

“Not my type,” Seunghyun says, sharply enough that Jiyong raises his eyebrows.  Seunghyun’s pocket vibrates. “Will you excuse me?”

The stylist sighs, loudly.  He makes his assurances that he’ll be right back, then makes a beeline for the bathroom.

Once the door is shut he pulls out his phone, heart already throwing itself against his sternum.

[I had to go into work too]

[Poor baby] Seunghyun replies. Riba-chan had seemed desperate enough in their last exchange that he thought he could step over that line. 

[I’ll be here until 11 or so...I keep having to sneak off.]

[Why?]

[Look what you did to me.]

Seunghyun leans against the wall while the picture loads. He knows he’ll need the support. Sure enough, he feels a little lightheaded as he takes in Riba-chan’s latest offering.  He’s gripping himself inside another pair of those ridiculous underwear, pushing his swollen cock up against the fabric so Seunghyun can appreciate every vein. They’re white this time, almost transparent where he’s leaked through them near the waistband. 

[Are you touching yourself right now?]

[Yes. I want to cum so bad hyung]

Seunghyun sucks in a sharp breath, lets it out slowly through his teeth.  Ooooookay. That word had more of an effect on him than he realised it would.

Actually he’s not surprised at all. Fuck yeah. Let’s do this.

[Don’t]

[I won’t]

[Show me more]

Seunghyun expects another picture, hopes to see him bare, but what Riba-chan sends next is even better than what he imagined.  It’s a ten second video clip, his hand moving beneath the fabric with frantic, uneven strokes while he sighs and pants under his breath. Riba-chan is clearly a natural born performer, but the ending is what convinces Seunghyun he’s been conversing with a dramatic master. Riba-chan whips his hand out of his pants and out of frame. There’s a soft but very wet sucking noise as his abandoned cock pulses on its own, the transparent patch visibly spreading.

[I wish it was you in my mouth right now]

Seunghyun isn’t going to just thank Jiyong for the app suggestion. He’s going to make him best man at the wedding.

“Ten minutes to stage!” yells a coordinator.

“Someone find Seungri,” says Jiyong, sounding pissed. Seunghyun hears Seungri’s manager reply in low tones.

“Is hyung still in the bathroom?” Youngbae asks.

“When you gotta go, you gotta go.”  Thanks Daesungie.

[I have to go] Seunghyun sends.

[Me too]

 

* * *

 

It’s a rare night when the magic of the stage fails to transport Seungri into his ultimate fantasy. Existing for the adulation of the crowd, thousands of voices singing their words, chanting their names, the sea of yellow lights dazzling him as he flies high on the pure exhilaration of doing what he was born to do.

This show feels endless, and not in a good way. He’s running with sweat within the first five minutes and feels oddly sensitive for the entire two and a half hours. He avoids the other guys, like if he lets them get too close they’ll sniff out what he’s up to.  They’ve never caught on before, or if they have they’re discreet, but even so. He maintains his distance, keeps unnecessary banter to a minimum, puts his nervous energy into choreography and commands to the audience to jump, get up, scream for me, louder and louder.

This is all Seunghyun’s fault. The thoughts Seungri’s been having and the way he’s been acting on them. If Seunghyun had just responded like a normal person for once, if he’d just replied NEW PHONE WHO DIS?! Anyone can make a mistake like Seungri’s, but it takes a special kind of magical thinking to put meaning behind a misaddressed text.

Seunghyun has always been like that, though. Too creative. If Seungri argues with him he’ll just say something ridiculous like there are no mistakes in art. The same old mix of admiration and frustration burns in Seungri’s chest while he watches Seunghyun’s solo stage.

He’s knows he’s projecting feelings for someone else onto his hyung. He’s going fucking crazy.

His suspicions are confirmed during the encore when Youngbae tackles him from behind and forces him to bend over. He’s only trying to scream in his ear more effectively, and Seungri’s never been into Youngbae like that, but the way his body responds is ridiculous. Seungri yells and throws him off, a little rougher than necessary, thankful they’ve gone with the gift bag concept again so he can adjust it in front of key areas.

Finally, it’s over. He blows hasty kisses as he sprints offstage and heads straight into a lukewarm shower. He spends a few minutes just sputtering and slowing his breathing, then gets serious about cleaning himself.  By the time he hears the cacophony of end of show start through the bathroom wall, he’s shivering and dripping a puddle onto the tiles by the sink. He’d normally be out there lording it over them all — he usually has at least one or two notable friends who stop by to see him specifically — but he has plans to finish making.

“Seungri-ya?” 

Seungri almost drops his phone, but it’s his towel that goes instead. His other hand darts out to the door handle. Locked. Good.

“It’s me,” Seunghyun continues.

Who else could it fucking be!

“Yes, hyung?” he asks, trying to sound like he wasn’t about to arrange a time and a place to get bent over again.

“Just checking you’re okay.”

“I’m fine!” Honestly, what the fuck.

“You left so fast, Youngbae thought it was your stomach.”

Then why doesn’t Youngbae come check on me himself, Seungri wants to snap.

“I’m really fine! Thanks!”

He waits, motionless, until he’s sure Seunghyun has wandered off. He opens up the app and goes to his message log with — massive eyeroll and massive boner for — Clooney-kun. He prefers to think of him as Mr. Best Dick Ever.  It wasn’t enormous or glow in the dark or anything, but judging by the one picture, it perfectly suits his taste. Ticks every dick box. Seungri is very discerning, because dick is a rare delicacy and must be savoured.

Aish, he’s fully hard again already. Just over one picture? This is really getting bad. He grips himself as he reads over the message log, gently squeezing...until he gets to _Don’t._ Ugh, so hot. He wonders what his voice sounds like…

He’s gonna be full-on whacking off if he stays in this bathroom one minute longer.

[I can’t wait anymore] he sends. [I’m leaving now. You can meet me at—]

Seungri hesitates. This is it. He’s really doing this. He has condoms in two sizes, and the good lube, and a rehearsed speech he’ll only recite if the guy happens to recognise him. Ha. There’s a pipe dream he can’t seem to stop smoking.

He types in details for the lobby outside the hotel’s gym. It’s kind of sketchy, but he knows it’ll be mostly empty at this hour and it wouldn’t be weird for him to be down there anyway, so he’s got cover stories to cover his cover stories.

He gets dressed quickly, pulling out his own stash of base makeup as a final step. He hasn’t been able to sleep properly and he hasn’t prepped this guy for panda aesthetics.

There’s an impatient knock on the door. Seungri throws all his stuff in his bag and jams his cap on his head.

He opens the door and screams.

 

* * *

 

“Hyung! What the fuck!”

Wow. He might be thirtysomething now, but Seunghyun still finds Seungri cutest when he’s mad. His cheeks are bright pink, just like his t-shirt.

“What!”

“Have you been standing there the whole time!”

“I have to piss!” 

“There are other bathrooms!”

Haha wow, he’s really mad. Seunghyun begins to feel slightly wronged.

“They’re all full of other people pissing!”

“You can’t just stand there and _listen—“_

“What’s to listen to!”

“Whoa, whoa, everybody chill,” Daesung says, laying his hand on Seunghyun’s upper arm and pulling him a step back from Seungri. He looks more amused than anything. “Hyung, your phone keeps going off.”

“Thanks,” Seunghyun mutters, taking the device. Once it’s in his hand he feels an old urge. He grabs Seungri’s arm as he starts to pass by, digging his fingers into the soft flesh on the underside. “Hey.”

Seungri looks down first, teeth bared like he might bite Seunghyun’s hand, and then he looks up. Seunghyun smiles his most predatory grin. Seungri freezes, his eyes getting darker as they drop to Seunghyun’s mouth, then lower down his body, then back up to meet his stare. It’s freaky, but in exactly the way Seunghyun wanted it to be. 

Seungri twitches and blinks back to himself.

“W-what?”

“Have a nice night, maknae.”  He releases him.

“You too, hyung,” Seungri says, bowing slightly to him and to Daesung as well. Then he’s gone.

Damn. That felt good. It’s been too long.

Daesung is looking at Seunghyun with eyes narrower than usual. He shrugs, waves, and shuts the bathroom door behind him. He can’t resist checking his messages first.

Meet him _where?_ Seunghyun double checks the name and the address. Oh god.

Has he walked right past Riba-chan in the hotel without realising it?

No. No way. That ass is once in a lifetime. No way he wouldn’t have noticed him before.

Maybe he works there, Seunghyun rationalises. Young, attractive, and multilingual. He’d be perfect in a hospitality role.

[I know where it is] he replies. [but how will I know it’s you]

[Use the meet up notifier]

[The what?]

[On the app. I already sent you the invitation, you just have to accept it.]

[where?]

[...]

All of the blood is flowing to his dick. He hopes Riba-chan takes pity on him.

Riba-chan sends a screenshot from his app. Holy shit, he has a lot of matches.

He picked me, Seunghyun thinks. He hasn’t felt this good in years, really.

He taps the button Riba-chan indicated in his picture. A chain embellished with hearts encircles his screen before the whole thing pulses red, complete with thumping heartbeat. It’s way cheesy, but also kinda ominous.

[Received your confirmation] Riba-chan sends, suddenly all business. [Our IDs are synced, so the app will tell us when we’re close to each other, assuming you have your location setting on]

[Okay, but can we be normal for a second?] Seunghyun sends, not wanting to admit he doesn’t know what setting he’s talking about this time.

[what do you mean?]

Seunghyun rolls his eyes. Kids these days. He starts getting undressed, typing with one hand as he peels his sweaty encore outfit off.

[I’m wearing a black hoodie. And black pants.]

It sounds like he’s trying to burgle something, but it’s just his usual venue to hotel wardrobe.

[My shirt is pink]

Aw. The best colour. Except black is supposed to be his favourite, Seunghyun reminds himself.

He sends a pink heart, the shyness buried under all the horniness creeping up on him as he stands shivering just outside the shower stall. Maybe that was too much.

Riba-chan sends two hearts back. One black, one pink.  

 

* * *

 

Seunghyun has to turn the sound off on his phone when he’s still two blocks away from the hotel.  The driver and his manager keep looking at him in the rear view mirror every time the device sends out another location update.

[ _You’re close to your match! Send a message!]_

The driver lets them out near a back entrance to the hotel. This is the only hard part, when Seunghyun has to come up with a shaky story on the spot, something about how they’d all been working so hard already that he should take the night off, stay in the suite by himself, and Seunghyun will room with Daesung for the night. 

“What about _his_ manager?” his manager asks.

“That guy has it too easy already,” Seunghyun says, waving away his concerns. “I won’t ask for anything from the convenience store unless Daesung wants to get something too. _And_ I’ll sleep with Daesung in his bed. He told me he wanted me to.”

Seunghyun’s nervous giggle at the man’s befuddled stare probably does nothing to convince him he’s not up to something, but they part ways in the elevator without any protest. Seunghyun immediately hits the button to call the next car. His stomach is falling, and it’s probably just from going down so many floors so fast, but—

The app loses its shit as the car slows to a stop, making his hoodie pocket vibrate with a series of prolonged buzzes. If he could, he’d post a review in Japanese about the value of discretion in a dating app. Seunghyun takes the phone out as the door opens. He steps through, clearing what he hopes is the last message from his screen. Pink shirt, he tells himself. Pink shirt.

Wait. Pink shirt?

 

* * *

 

It’s deserted down here, all right. It’s kind of creepy, actually, and Seungri wishes there was at least a concierge or a doorman so his loitering near the elevators wasn’t so obvious. He could pretend to need ramen recommendations. He talks himself out of hiding behind a potted fern for the fifteenth time. 

Grow a pair, he chastises himself. He has a reason to be here. This is the warm up to a calorie burning activity. The notifications from his phone are ramping up in frequency, would be annoying if he hadn’t silenced them all beforehand. He’s definitely on his way.

But what if Best Dick Ever is disappointed once they see each other in person?  He looks about as tall as he says he is in his profile, seems almost haughty by his stance. What if he knows where this gym is because he’s totally ripped, and hotter than Seungri, and—

“Pabo,” he whispers to himself fiercely, closing another notification from the app. The guy was obviously into him. Seungri can see how many times he’s looked at his pictures, how many times he’s watched the video.

This is gonna be the best hookup ever, with the best dick ever, and he’s not going to let any negative self-talk ruin it before it even starts.

[ _Ganbatte!_ ] screams the app. Seungri takes a deep breath in, holds it. Oh fuck. That’s the final message.

The elevator doors open, and he steps out. He’s looking down at his phone, because it’s buzzing louder than a cheap vibrator. He’s wearing all black.

He’s gorgeous, of course. 

Seungri tries to take another breath in on top of the one he’s holding. His tired throat ends up rattling with a strange fish-out-of-water death squeak. 

Seunghyun looks up.

Seungri knows he’s so fucked. And yet his mind insists on entertaining the thought that this is just a really hilarious coincidence. It’s not typical, but Seunghyun does go to the gym sometimes. He even prefers to do it at off hours, by himself, so it’s totally possible that what is currently happening is still impossible.

Seunghyun ruins everything.  He holds up his phone to show Seungri the screen.

“Pink shirt?” he asks. His eyes are large and innocent.

Every possible reaction races through Seungri’s brain, every wayward thought he’s ever had about this man clawing its way to the surface, screaming to be confronted and controlled.

He doesn’t want to.

What he wants is on that phone.

He just has to be sure.

“Let me see your phone,” he demands. 

Seunghyun looks at the device in his hands like he’s a caveman stumbled upon an out-of-time artifact.

Seungri takes a step forward, and Seunghyun starts to move his hand back toward his pocket.

“LET ME SEE IT,” Seungri whisper-roars.

“Okay, okay!”

Seunghyun lets him take it.

 

* * *

 

Seungri gets intense like this sometimes. Seunghyun’s seen it before, waves of highly concentrated energy pouring off of him as his mind overclocks on his current obsession.

“Oh god,” he murmurs, his scrolling thumb coming to a stop. He licks his lips after a quick glance up at Seunghyun. “I should have recognised the bathroom.”

What! Seunghyun knows what was visible in that picture. As if his dick would have been rejected over a common granite countertop!

Seungri’s thumb is back in action. When he looks up again Seunghyun almost takes a step back.

“You didn’t delete my texts.” An accusation, not a neutral statement. Seunghyun takes a second to think, which is apparently unacceptable. Seungri brandishes the phone at him. “You knew it was me the whole time!”

“What the fuck! No I didn’t!”

“You did! You knew I was using the same app!”

Seunghyun storms over and snatches his phone out of Seungri’s hand. He taps on Riba-chan’s profile — SEUNGRI’S PROFILE — and holds the screen up to his face. Seungri winces and pushes it away.

“YOU SAID YOU WERE 25!” Seunghyun doesn’t bother whispering.

“YOU LIED TOO!”

The last echoes of their voices fade in the empty hallway. They’ve fought, but they’ve never really fought. Not in the way Seunghyun would define a fight.

But he’s definitely pissed now — first, that Seungri jumped straight to the conclusion that he’d knowingly do this, and second, that he’d send him a picture of his dick out of cruelty? As a way to _get back at him_? It was just a mistake! It could happen to anyone!

Twice. Twice now they’ve sent pictures of their dicks to each other. By mistake. Or is it technically three times for Seungri? _Four?_

This is not the time to laugh.

“What in the fuck is wrong with us,” Seungri says. He blinks at Seunghyun, then down at his phone.

“You didn’t delete those texts either,” Seunghyun gasps between stifled giggles. The dumb, guilty look Seungri gives him makes him laugh harder. Ahh, his sides. He’s never been surer of anything in his life. “We—we should switch to Snapchat if we’re gonna keep doing this—“

“No. We should stop taking pictures of our dicks.” Seungri is pink like his shirt again.

“Bro, that’s just unrealistic.”

Seunghyun watches as Seungri fights it, and then he finally cracks. He turns his back on Seunghyun, his shoulders shaking with half-silenced laughter.

Seunghyun can’t help but take a chance now. He rests his palm gently on Seungri’s shoulder blade, like he’s afraid too much pressure will burn.

“Aish,” Seungri groans, wiping at his eyes. “We should...”

Seunghyun doesn’t want to stop touching him, now that he’s done it. His slides his hand down to Seungri’s forearm, his grip going from tentative to confident the longer Seungri lets him keep contact.

“We should stop,” Seungri finishes.

What? They barely even started!

“What did you mean earlier,” Seunghyun asks.

Seungri looks over his shoulder.

“About it going fast between you and...her,” Seunghyun finishes lamely. He never found out what her name was and he doesn’t want to know.

“How do you know about that?” Seungri gapes as he turns fully around.

“Daesungie told me.”

Seungri looks so annoyed for a second that Seunghyun almost starts laughing again. Then Seungri closes his eyes, shakes his head. He looks so tired all the sudden. Seunghyun shifts his grip on Seungri’s arm slightly, steps in closer to him.

“She went back to Paris last week,” Seungri mutters.

YES. Seunghyun tries for a less gleeful tone when he speaks out loud.

“Paris?”

“Said she gets paid more there. To _model_.” Seungri gets out his phone, then shows Seunghyun an Instagram picture of a familiar individual kissing an unfamiliar individual.

“His goatee is sexy,” Seunghyun says, straightfaced. Seungri laughs without much humour.

Seunghyun doesn’t know what to say then, besides the obvious. He steps closer to Seungri, waits for him to look up from the phone. When he sees the careful blankness in his eyes, Seunghyun feels hot all over. Talk about a mistake.

“She’s a fucking idiot.”

Seungri clears his throat. He steps away, far enough that Seunghyun has to drop his arm.

“It wasn’t serious,” he says, raising his voice to sound super not serious.

Seunghyun’s phone buzzes in his pocket, probably the app asking him to review the threadcount on the hotel sheets or something optimistic like that.

“Could be another match,” Seungri says, still in that funny high voice. “You should check.”

Seunghyun waits for his phone to shut the fuck up before he replies. 

“There’s no one else. I’m serious.”

Seungri’s laugh is short again, his jaw tightening as he looks away. Seunghyun waits, again, and he’s just about to make a joke of the entire thing — ask him how to uninstall the app, maybe, and suggest he uninstall Instagram while he’s at it, because fuck all of these twisted little robots — when Seungri reaches behind himself.

He steps forward and slips a key card into Seunghyun’s hoodie pocket. His eyes are alive again, black and sharp. Seunghyun enjoys the pleasurable slash of his gaze over the length of his body, likes even more Seungri cutting off his growing smile with a curt order.

“Don’t come up until I message you.”

 

* * *

 

Seunghyun lingers by the door, sliced up by the city lights through the blinds.

Seungri worries that he’s read him wrong, even though he could recite their chat logs from memory. Even though he’s known what Seunghyun wants for a long time now. Knew it as soon as he figured out what he wanted for himself.

Maybe this is just like old times. Seungri has to take the first step for Seunghyun to remember his.

“Hyung?” he asks, making his voice soft, the way Seunghyun likes it. He _knows_ him.

Seunghyun is silent a moment longer, eyes as active as his body is still.

 _“_ Come here.”

Just two words tow Seungri in on an invisible line.

Seunghyun touches him on the face first, which is surprising, but nice. Seungri breathes in and closes his eyes as cool fingers drift lower, gripping his shoulders for a brief squeeze, then down to his upper arms for another squeeze.

“Open your eyes,” Seunghyun says. Seungri does, biting his lip at how near Seunghyun is, and his evaluating expression. Seungri likes to be looked at, he likes it _so_ much.

When Seunghyun gets to the hem of the pink t-shirt he lifts it up, and Seungri takes the hint.  He’s barely got the shirt over his head before Seunghyun’s hands are back on him, revisiting where he’s already been, eventually going back to his face. Seungri gasps when Seunghyun captures his jaw in a tight grip, one thumb brushing over his lips before invading the corner of his mouth. He lets Seunghyun in, keeping his jaw open and pliant until Seunghyun raises his eyebrows, and he realises what he’s supposed to do.

Seunghyun smiles when Seungri swirls his tongue around him and starts to suck, but he doesn’t let him do it for long. He pulls out of his mouth with a pop, slicking his thumb across the tip of one nipple before it can dry. Seungri’s reaction is muffled by his other thumb, and this time he immediately sets to work, moaning as he wets it.

Seunghyun goes back and forth from mouth to chest as needed, until Seungri’s nipples are tight and tingling and his entire body is humming from holding back. He’s throbbing so hard in his jeans that he could cry. 

“Umn,” he complains around Seunghyun’s fingers, locking his own together behind his back.  His chest is even more on display now, and he shudders with the anticipation of being touched again.

“What’s Riba mean?” Seunghyun asks, pausing his torture. Seungri can tell by the way his smile grows marginally more evil that he already knows.

“It’s—"  He nearly gags when Seunghyun starts a gentle thrusting motion with his fingers along the top of his tongue, just as he begins to answer.

“Suck,” Seunghyun says mildly. Seungri does, glaring, loving the noise when Seunghyun pulls his fingers out. His abs go concave on their own when Seunghyun uses one fingertip to play with the rim of his navel. He giggles and tries to step back, and gets yanked in by his waistband. “It’s what?”

“You already know,” Seungri says, getting off on the breathless quality of his own voice.

“You were supposed to teach me Japanese,” Seunghyun insists.

“It means I like it both ways.”

Seunghyun’s fingers are stroking soft circles in the sparse hair on his belly now, corresponding hot coils burning inside Seungri as Seunghyun moves lower and lower with each pass.

“Both ways?”

Seungri nods, his breaths rushing out against the tickle.

“What way are you right now?”

Seungri can’t decide if he wants to sulk or smile. Seunghyun _knows_.

“Whatever way you want.”

Seunghyun hums, like he’s thinking about it. His fingertips slip briefly inside Seungri’s jeans.

“Are you wearing the same underwear from before?”

“No,” Seungri laughs. Seunghyun saw the state of those. Does he think he’d perform like that? And then leave the venue like that? Dirty as fuck. Seungri files the thought away for later.

“But are they the same kind?” Seunghyun asks. He’s far enough in Seungri’s pants now that Seungri can’t resist tilting his hips, trying to nudge him into more contact.

“Yes.” Seungri’s smile is small but satisfied. “The peach ones.”

Seunghyun chuckles and pushes him away.

“Show me.”

Seungri feels mildly stunned, but he recovers quickly. Okay, fine. It’s too dark to see the show properly, though.  Seungri leans over to turn on a lamp, filling the front room they’re in with an orange glow. He catches Seunghyun’s eye and holds it as he begins, his edginess smoothing out the longer this goes on. He feels a certain need to impress, but a confidence too.  There is a familiar rhythm here he can move to, he realises, a beat that’s always been just underneath the surface.

He unbuttons and unzips, dropping his eyes to watch himself. He stops halfway, taking close note of Seunghyun’s body before he looks back at his face. Fuck, he can’t wait.  It’d been a great dick when it belonged to a stranger, but now? One more tooth on his zipper releases, hands free. Seungri snickers at himself.

“All the way,” Seunghyun prompts.

Impatient.  Seungri unzips the rest, his mouth opening at the feeling of release.  He keeps his hand in front deliberately, curving his palm over his bulge.  He expects Seunghyun to be frustrated — not like he hasn’t seen it before, more than a few times now — but his eyes light up instead.

“I like it when you touch your cock,” he says in Japanese.

Seungri laughs. Where did he learn that?

“I thought I was supposed to teach you.”

“I looked up some stuff,” Seunghyun says, and now he does sound slightly crabby. “Do what you did before.”

Seungri adjusts himself so he’s pointing roughly at his hip, then lets his hand fall away for a second.  He runs the back of his knuckles up his length, liking the feel of the bumps through the smooth fabric, then slides his fingers under his waistband.

He’s been so on for so long that this whole situation is bringing him to a couple of edges just thirty seconds in, sanity and orgasm being the most obvious. 

“Hyung,” he moans, “do you just want me to come like this?” All alone, after everything! The thought seems to make his need worse, and he squirms in place, hand on his cock and heart his in throat.

Seunghyun is next to him in an instant, the heat of him and the weight of him all along Seungri’s front as he leans in.

Melodrama gives way to euphoria because Seunghyun is kissing back, responding with soft openness to Seungri’s seeking tongue — and this is not how he expected this to go at all. 

Seunghyun’s steady hand on his hip and the other one at the back of his head are like magic.  He’s leading, he knows all the moves. It makes Seungri feel weak in the best way, and he clutches on to Seunghyun’s shirt as the kiss goes on.

He breaks off with a little cry when the denim seam of Seunghyun’s fly scrapes him through his underwear. He clings to Seunghyun a few seconds more, letting himself be dry humped into a semi-stupor, until the thought of skin-on-skin occurs. 

“Stop,” he pants, his progress with Seunghyun’s jeans impeded by Seunghyun pulling down on his at the same time. Great minds. “Let me—”

They’re tight enough that his underwear start to go with them, and Seungri is grateful for the efficiency. Seunghyun’s hands are down the back of them immediately, finishing the job. He’s got a cheek in each hand.  Seungri tries to go back to the job of getting _his_ pants off, and receives a firm, almost painful squeeze for his troubles.

“Just let me have this for a second,” Seunghyun says. He’s looking beyond Seungri. Seungri looks over his shoulder.  There’s a mirror. And there are already bruises on his ass from earlier.

“Hyung,” he groans, collapsing his head on Seunghyun’s shoulder. He’s so tired, and so horny.  “You can look at it later, can’t we just—”

“No, you’re going to look at it too. Where’s your lube?”

“Right there,” Seungri says, pointing to his bag on the couch. 

“Don’t move.”

Seungri stands there as directed, pants around his knees. Seunghyun comes back to him, popping the cap on the bottle open.

“Hyung aren’t you—” Seungri starts, gesturing at him.  “Can’t I see it again?”

Seunghyun laughs and doesn’t answer the question. What a fucking jerk.

“Come here,” he says instead, pulling Seungri in close by one arm. Seungri jolts up against him at the first touch of cold lube between his legs, hissing as his sore nipples brush over the cotton of Seunghyun’s hoodie. “You okay?”

Seungri nods, fast, enjoying the automatic response of his body to Seunghyun’s long fingers  stroking over him, deep breaths rushing from his chest every time his hole clenches up, waiting to be filled.  

“Fuck, just put them in already,” he finally moans.

“Watch and I will,” Seunghyun says.

Seungri receives Seunghyun’s middle fingers for his obedience. Seungri has always admired his hands, but after he watches those fingers slide in and out of him a few times, he knows he’s officially obsessed.  He tries to keep watching, he really does, but his eyes roll back when Seunghyun presses in deep and starts to fuck him, hard enough to make his ass bounce.

He takes it in silence until he begins to lose control of his muscles, which is always a very good sign.

“Ahh, hyung!” he warns, reaching behind himself to clutch Seunghyun’s wrist.  Seunghyun goes at him even harder before he pulls out at the last second, holding Seungri open to watch him twitch.

“Holy shit,” Seunghyun says. “Look at you.”

Seungri feels embarrassed until he sees the look on Seunghyun’s face. Yes. Of course he’s in love. So he goes for it, tearing at Seunghyun’s fly until he’s got his hands on him too, _finally_.  He looks down and sighs. God, the list of things he wants to do with this is so long.  How is he supposed to decide?

“Okay,” Seunghyun says, cheery. “You take the front and I’ll take the back.”

Seungri laughs, because okay, sure, that simplifies things.  He’s been leaking a long, unbroken string of precum since Seunghyun started in on him, and it finally gets put to good use. He tilts his hips, rubbing himself up against Seunghyun just as he gets fingers up his ass again. Plus one more. It’s beyond anything he’s had in years, and it’s Seunghyun, and it’s _perfect_.

Yeah, this is an exercise in futility.  He makes an attempt, wrapping his fingers as far around both of them as he can and trying to get into some sort of rhythm, but as soon as Seunghyun makes a deep, satisfied noise in the back of his throat, Seungri is coming. He’s half-forgotten what it was like to orgasm with something inside of him; he wonders if it’s a deliberate sort of memory loss, because otherwise he’d always want it.  He might be actually crying now judging by the noises he’s making. Doesn’t care, still coming.

Seunghyun holds him up by the ass until he calms down, then slowly, carefully takes his fingers out, rubbing him where he’s still open and tender. His mouth returning to Seungri’s is even gentler, and Seungri isn’t sure if he’s kissing him back to reality or lulling him deeper into a dream.

“Hyung,” he says against his lips, still catching his breath. “Wanna blow you, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before he goes down. His legs are done anyway. He can’t keep standing.

From his knees Seungri looks up. His exhaustion makes him lazier with his technique than he should be, but Seunghyun still appears to be floating several levels above heart eyes. Seungri keeps his tongue relaxed as he laps at his own cum, until Seunghyun is as clean and perfect as he was a few minutes prior.

He moans when Seunghyun settles a hand on the back of his head again. He might be tired, but Seungri can never pass up a chance to impress. He takes Seunghyun in and holds him there, deep but not quite at his choke point. He massages him with the full length of his tongue, letting his saliva collect in his mouth before he makes the suck off, long, and wet, and slow. He’d imagined it all going down so differently from looking at Seunghyun’s picture — something fast and forceful that he’d have to make excuses for the next day, when he’s sounding a bit throatier than usual.  Now Seunghyun feels so silky under his lips, tastes secret and sweet on his tongue, and he’s wishing he could just do this forever.

He takes a break to breathe, stroking Seunghyun with a loose fist as he presses his lips to his inner thigh. Well, fine. He might be in a kind of romantic mood for whatever reason, but he’s still got a basic instinct he wants to fulfill. He chases his hand up Seunghyun’s cock with a trail of open-mouthed, wet kisses, lets his lips brush against the tip as he speaks.

“Want to come in my mouth, or in my ass?”

“I love you,” Seunghyun replies.  Seungri only gets to laugh for a second before Seunghyun thrusts his cock back in his mouth.  He opens his mouth wider to accommodate him, takes hold of his hips to let him thrust but also control the motion. He tugs Seunghyun’s jeans and boxers lower down his legs, then slides his hands under Seunghyun’s  hoodie. He can feel the sweat at the small of his back, lets his fingers follow it trickling down. He can’t resist grabbing Seunghyun’s ass, either — at which point he pauses to note the obvious.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“On your face,” Seunghyun says, and he sounds just about finished.  Seungri smiles, sweet and compliant.

“Love you too.” 

The words come out with no forethought or hesitation, but Seungri doesn't dwell on his surprise or any of the other emotions that came along with it, because Seunghyun's following up with an urgent dick chaser.

Seungri lets go of Seunghyun’s ass to grab his hand, pressing it to his cheek so Seunghyun can feel the shape of himself as he passes over Seungri’s lips and tongue. Seunghyun moves his hips faster, sliding his fingers up into Seungri’s hair.  Seungri keeps steady eye contact with him now, pitching his noises of pleasure to match his pleading expression. Turns out, Seunghyun is just as easy as Seungri always thought he might be.

“Oh fuck,” he sighs, pulling out and pulling on Seungri’s hair at the same time. Seungri loves the stretch on his neck, loves even more the thick stripes of cum laid over his jaw and lips. He can’t resist sucking on Seunghyun again just before he’s done, swallowing what’s in his mouth as Seunghyun’s fist tightens in his hair.

There’s not much sound in the aftermath, just faint city noise and Seunghyun trying to catch his breath.  Seungri keeps him in his mouth until Seunghyun eases up on his grip. He kisses him again, carefully, then relaxes against his thigh.  He's ready to lay down on the floor and pass out right there.

“Want to go to bed?” Seunghyun asks, and god, the way he says it. Like Seungri might say no, after he just got a taste of the future?

Seungri reaches up to take his hand.

 

* * *

 

Seunghyun thinks Seungri might be asleep already, but he’s not ready to let this be over. He turns on his side, a painful twinge in his chest as he takes in Seungri’s face — sexed up and smeared just minutes ago, now soft and clean.

“We should do this every time we fight,” Seunghyun says. “From now on.”

Seungri’s eyes crack open.

“Did we fight?”

“I was so angry at you.”

Seungri looks at him a few seconds longer. Then he closes his eyes again and swallows, eyebrows raising with self-satisfied pleasure as he snuggles down deeper into his pillow.

“I’ll fight you for real tomorrow, hyung, okay?”

Seunghyun grins. He can’t wait to start it.  

 

* * *

 

The next morning, while Seungri is in the shower and Seunghyun is lying spreadeagled in the tangled destruction of bed sheets, he hears his phone go off. 

The app actually does ask for a review.  Does he like his match? Yes. He does. Very cheeky.

Instead of filling out the survey, Seunghyun carefully consults his message log, then sends Seungri another invitation. His phone sings out soon after the shower stops.

[Second meeting accepted! Victory!]

Seungri comes out of the bathroom immediately.

“Hyung, give me your phone,” he says, exasperated, approaching the bed.

“Why?” Seunghyun shoves it under his pillow and rolls on his side to face Seungri. Full Seduction Pose active.

“Because no one in the entire country actually keeps those notifications on!”

Pose didn’t work, but Seunghyun is officially  distracted.

“Turn around,” he says.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Seungri makes sure to give him his best put upon face, but he does it anyway.

“I really am an idiot,” Seunghyun decides. “How could I not know it was you?”

“Are you done looking?” He sounds annoyed, but he’s just slightly bending at the waist, too. Big assed little shit.

“No. Come here.”

“I just took a shower.” Seungri comes complaining, crawling on the bed. He sniffs and wrinkles his nose as he shifts closer to Seunghyun.

“You wanna fight again already?” Seunghyun pulls him in, urges him to lie down on top of him.

“I don’t think I can,” Seungri laughs.

“But you’re definitely up for later?”

“Yeah.”

Seunghyun pets the back of his damp head, listening to the muted start of the day through the window. Thinking about other mornings, where he’d wake up with someone and still be alone.

Seungri shifts and raises up to look down at him.

“Are we going to tell them?”

“Everyone already knows.” Seunghyun laughs at the quick movements of his eyes, searching for understanding. “No, I didn’t show anyone your dick pics.”

“Then how do they know?”

“Because you’re so obviously in love with me, of course.”

Seungri goes back to exasperated.

“I am not so obvious,” he protests.

“See? Always trying to start a fight.”

“That’s you!”

“Shut up,” Seunghyun says, sealing Seungri’s lips with his.

 

* * *

 

They’re only a little late to the meet up with the others, and they beat Jiyong anyway. Seungri sees someone he knows five steps into the airport lounge and stops to schmooze.

Seunghyun goes for the coffee, then sits down to chill with Youngbae. He’s a few sips in when his phone buzzes again.

Seungri whips his head around to stare at him from across the room. Seunghyun checks the notification. Just a reminder to fill out the review? Damn! He nudges Youngbae on the shoulder.

“How do I turn this shit off?”

“Ya, hyung, did you really use it?!” He recoils slightly when he gets a look at Seunghyun’s match feed.

“Only once,” Seunghyun says, making his glance at Youngbae as easygoing as possible.

“Hyung.”

“Bro, don’t worry.”  He nudges him on the shoulder again, reassuringly this time. “He’s trustworthy.” 

Youngbae is a champ, doesn’t even flinch at the pronoun.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”  Seunghyun drops his voice.  “Wanna see his dick?”

“What! No!” Youngbae looks sidelong at the banana he was eating, then drops it half finished onto his breakfast plate.  Seungyun laughs out loud, and people are starting to look. Especially one person.

Again with the phone.

“Aish,” Seunghyun mutters.

“I’ll...I’ll look at it,” Youngbae says, like a man condemned. He hands the phone back straight away. “You have a message.”

[I’ll unmatch from you if you don’t put your phone on silent]

[Oh no. Then you’ll tell me to delete the app]

[Then you’ll ask me how to delete the app for you]

[Delete me from your life while you’re at it]

He looks up when he hears Seungri giggle. Seunghyun sends a kiss emoji next to a banana.

This time when Youngbae peeks at his phone, Seunghyun lets him.

“Riba Momo,” Youngbae says under his breath.  “The fuck kind of name is that?”

“You tell me. You were the one trying to convince us he was a ‘love expert.’”

“...huh?”

Daesung walks up and takes the seat on the other side of Seunghyun, happily munching away on his own banana.  He gestures at Youngbae with the bitten-off end.

“You look weird, hyung.”

“Thanks.”

“You gonna eat that?”  Seunghyun reaches over Youngbae’s lap for his banana. Youngbae jumps when the phone buzzes again.

“I really need help, bro,” Seunghyun says.

“Ask Daesung,” he mutters.

[why are you all eating bananas?]

[Come join us]

[I don’t want one]

[I want to watch you eat it.]

[pabo]

[I’ll eat you later if you do]

Seunghyun grins with triumph as Seungri approaches.

“Where are the bananas?” Seungri asks.

“Oh my god,” whispers Youngbae, experiencing epiphany.

“Over there,” Daesung gestures. “Next to the coffee.” He takes a huge finishing bite of his banana.

Seungri comes back and sits down in the seat across from Seunghyun to start in on his peel, legs spread wide. He puts the tip between his lips, takes a very precise bite, and then a larger chomp.

“Ya, why are you all staring at me!” Seungri complains around his mouthful.

Youngbae looks away immediately. Seunghyun keeps staring.

“You should get one for Jiyong hyung too! He’s almost here,” Daesung says.

“Mine was the last in the bowl,” Seungri says.

“You could share,” Seunghyun suggests.

Seungri stares at him, then takes another bite, chews slowly while he types something into his phone.

Seunghyun’s phone buzzes.

“Seungri-ya!” Youngbae cries, at the end of his patience. “If you have to use it, at least show him how to turn off the notifications!”

"It doesn’t work well at home anyway, hyung," Seungri says, then takes another bite.  He holds out his free hand.

“Wait, what?” Daesung, on the verge of enlightenment.

Seunghyun checks his messages before he hands the phone over.

[I don’t share]

Damn. Sounds pretty serious. Seunghyun might have to leave a five star review on this app after all.


End file.
